Once Prey to Neglect, Merry-Go-Rounds Now May Attract Too Much Attention

WHEN carousel barker Billy Bigelow bragged about his son-to-be in Rodgers and Hammerstein's 1945 musical hit, ``Carousel,'' he rated life on a carousel at least on a par with being ``president of the United States.'' America's love affair with merry-go-rounds (the two terms are interchangable) goes back a long way, to a ``ring of flying horses'' that appeared in Salem, Mass., in 1799.

But according to Frederick Fried, author of ``A Pictorial History of the Carousel,'' the merry-go-round got its start from a 17th-century contraption used to train young men in jousting. The knight-in-training, suspended by an overhead arm from a center pole, aimed his lance at a ring: hence the term ``catching the brass ring.''

Between 1873 and 1935, as many as 10,000 carousels - propelled by steam, gasoline, or electric motors - may have been manufactured in the United States, according to Mr. Fried. (American carousels turn in a counterclockwise direction; British carousels, called roundabouts, turn clockwise.)

Ironically, says Mr. Curtze, in recent years carousels have suffered from the opposite of neglect: The hand-carved horses and other figures have become a hot item for collectors, who buy them for display in their homes.

``Suddenly, there are instant collectors everywhere,'' he says. ``Everybody has discovered them.'' People who break up carousels ``don't mean any harm,'' he says. ``But it ends up being a wicked process.''

Last March, the New York Times reported that Sotheby's auction house in New York had set a world record by selling a carousel figure for $148,500. At Guernsey's, another New York auctioneer, a carousel figure it sold for $25,000 just six years ago is expected to fetch ``well over $100,000'' when it is auctioned in December, says co-owner Barbara Mintz.

Why the interest in painted ponies?

They're ``a souvenir of everyone's past,'' says Ms. Mintz.

Curtze says the ``world-class'' hand carving on many of the horses also attracts collectors. ``Now, real high-society (people) want them.''

Curtze doesn't buy the argument that carousels are better preserved as decorations in homes rather than as part of operating machines. Although a carousel can ``never be as pristine as a living room, you can come close to that'' with proper maintenance, he says. After all, he says, ``even an antique car buff takes his car out for a parade.''

Besides, the joy of riding a top-notch carousel is something the pony collector could never buy, he says.

``You forget your troubles, ... (there's) a sensation of wonder (and) sheer enjoyment, and everyone sharing in it; all the lights and the music.''